


Child of Mine

by Wellrounded



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Fluff, Mother-Daughter Relationship, a bit of everything, the trials and tribulations of being a Hamilton kid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-17 00:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11840217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wellrounded/pseuds/Wellrounded
Summary: “My two darling Elizas”An eternal bond between mother and daughter.





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

**1799**

* * *

Eliza had been beside her husband in his office, watching him scribble down the date on his latest letter to McHenry about army recruitments when she first suspected the tiny cells growing within her.

She had fetched some documents and his laptop desk from the parlour and placed the papers he needed on the desk beside him when she noticed the digits drying on the parchment paper. She paused, counting and recounting the numbers back in her head, while Alexander took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips, oblivious.

“Thank you, my love.” He whispered, affectionately rubbing his thumb over her knuckles as if rubbing his kiss into her skin.

When she didn’t respond or move, he paused his writing to look up and noticed the somewhat bewildered look on her face.

“Eliza?” He questioned, concern and confusion filling him.

She shook her head, snapping herself out of the fog and folded her lips over one another in an attempt to force the smile forming on them into a straight line. She didn’t want to share her thoughts with him until she was one hundred present sure.

Alexander’s eyebrows creased at her curious behaviour. “What is it?”

She managed to control her smile, yet the glint in her eyes was still evident. “Nothing for you to worry about.” She cooed, lifting her husband’s hand and stroking it.

He groaned in return, as if not knowing what was going on in his wife’s head caused him physical pain.

Eliza let out a melodious laugh. “Hush, my dear Hamilton.” She patted him on the head, to which Alexander held back a whimper. She was placating him as if he was a pet and he was not going to give her the impression that doing so was justified.

“Get back to your letter.” She ordered, leaning down to kiss the indent between his eyebrows.

*

It was a few weeks later when Alexander finally caught up with her suspicions.

He had been peppering kisses along her jaw, moving downwards to shower his affection over her chest when Eliza winced in discomfort.

He immediately pulled back in concern, “Did I hurt you?”

Eliza shook her head and placed her hand on the back of his head to pull his lips up towards her. “They’re just a little sensitive.”

He frowned as she captured his lips in her own, hoping to starve him of coherence, for she did not want to tell him like this. Not when she was feeling as hungry and needy as she was for him in the moment. Hamilton had a tendency to cry on learning such news and she wasn’t prepared to have him emotionally leaking on her when she was actually feeling full of energy for once. That could wait until after.

Alexander’s mind fogged over as his wife kissed him passionately, the questions which had began formation were hindered by the way she ran her hands through his hair, her nails scraping delicately against his scalp in the way she knew would make him shudder.

Through breaks in her kisses and caresses her words rang out in his head. She was only overly sensitive in that area when she was pregnant or breast-feeding, and William had been weaned for some time now, so it couldn’t be that. Therefore the only other possible option was…

He yelped as Eliza pulled on his hair, exposing his neck to her ministrations.

“Stop thinking.” She warned, looking into his glossy eyes.

He bopped his head, swallowed down the emotion and croaked out a “Sorry.”

Her eyes softened then, her lips widening in a smile as she straddled his hips.

“I think I can forgive you.” She smiled, leaning down to kiss him again.

Afterwards, when they were both sated and collapsed against one another, Alexander barely wasted a moment before asking her, not being able to hold on a second longer.

“Are you?” He whispered into the candlelit room.

Eliza lifted her head to face him raising her eyebrow questioningly.

“Betsey, you know what I’m asking.” He attempted to keep the whine out of his voice, but failed somewhat.

She smiled at him, “It is highly possible that I am with child, yes.”

Alexander clamped his mouth shut and stared back at her with increasingly watery eyes. His whole being filled with emotion, shutting down his ability to respond in fear of the feelings flooding out at a rate he could not control.

He couldn’t believe that he was lucky enough to be experiencing such a moment with his dearest Betsey again. A year prior he had truly believed he had scarpered any chance of any genuine reconciliation. That his wife would stay with him for convenience over love and that they would never get back to where they were before he published his depravities to the whole world. Back when Eliza would refuse his touch and he finally began to comprehend how majorly he had dishonoured and shamed his wife. How insensitive he was in revealing his sins for all to read.

At the time he had been so focussed on clearing his name that he barely considered how deeply it might affect his family. He could ask god for forgiveness for his sins, but what about his dearest wife? As angelic and saint-like as he believed she was, he knew the ability to forgive him for the heartbreak he caused her would not come easily. But ever the angel, she had slowly learned to trust him again and they began to heal together.

And now here they were, another miracle on the way. They were finally moving forward. The wounds were healing and beginning to flourish with new life.

A soft hand caressed his face, wiping the spilling tears away.

Alexander met his wife’s gaze. She was smiling at him kindly, as if she had predicted such a response from him, yet he could see her eyes were glossy with the same relief he was feeling.

*

On Alexander’s part, the name of their baby girl had been chosen from the day he found out his wife was expecting.

Eliza had been unsure, stating that the name of one of their mothers would probably be more suitable if they were to be gifted with a girl. But Alexander had been adamant.

She had gone along with it to placate him and with their track record it was unlikely the child would be a girl anyway.

But by the time their daughter was born, she knew she couldn’t take the name away from her husband as she watched him coo over the tiny bundle of joy.

He whispered to the baby as he rocked her gently in his arms. She was swaddled in a large blanket, just her head visible as her large dark eyes stared at her father inquisitively.

“My darling little Betsey, I have prayed for you every day. My sweet baby girl.”

Eliza glanced to the side, her heart swelling at the sight in front of her.

“I do not know what I have done to deserve my prayers being answered. Maybe your mother was praying for a girl too. I believe the almighty would favour her prayers over mine.”

“You were praying for a girl?” Eliza asked, her voice soft from exhaustion.

Alexander looked towards her sheepishly, his face giving away the answer.

Eliza chuckled. “What if I had given you a boy? Would you have been disappointed?”

“Never.” He replied, sitting down on the bed next to her and leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. “I could never be disappointed in any of the precious children you gift me with.”

“So why the need for a girl?” She leant forward to catch a better glimpse of the tiny child.

“Because I needed another Angel in my life. Another little Betsey to cherish and love.”

“Am I not enough?” She asked, light-heartedly.

Alexander’s face stiffened then, turning serious.

“You are more than enough Eliza. You are my everything, my whole world.” His voice cracked and he took in a deep breath to curve his emotion.

“Shush.” Eliza soothed, leaning into his side. “I know, my love.”

“Do you?”

“I do.” She attempted to shuffle closer towards him, grimacing at the discomfort it caused.

“Here!” Hamilton quickly stopped her, moving next to her and placing the bundle in her arms.

Eliza leaned against him comfortably and Alexander couldn’t take his eyes off the beautiful sight in front of him.

“My two darling Elizas” He beamed, feeling blessed.

* * *

**December 1801**

* * *

Little Betsey could sense that something was amiss in the Hamilton household, for an eerie quietness had overtaken the usual vitality it held. Her elder brothers and sister weren’t quite as animated as they once were, and her parent’s faces had taken on a strange drooping effect. Papa’s eyes were red and puffy, and Mama’s smile never stretched as far anymore, the sparkle in her eyes gone.

She had some awareness that something big had happened, but she couldn’t comprehend exactly what. Maybe it was to do with her turning two, she wondered. Maybe once you get to that age the world changes around you, for it had only been a few days after her second birthday that glow of The Grange dimmed. The house her Mama and Papa had worked fruitfully on for so long, building their dream, had become stagnant in the weeks proceeding her birthday. And her eldest brother Philip hadn’t been home, his table space left empty at meal times. Angie’s plate had been missing a few times too, but at least Betsey had seen her sister around the house and had heard the melodic sound of her fingers strumming her piano late in the hours of the night.

Betsey had spent a lot of time with her nurse over the past few weeks, brushed away from bothering her parents. But right now she wanted to feel her Mama’s soothing touch and hear the sound of her father’s reassuring voice, because the foundations of the house felt unstable and it made her tummy twist painfully and her Mama and Papa always knew how to make her feel better.

Noticing her nurse was preoccupied with William, she carefully tiptoed her way out of the parlour in search of her parents.

On arriving at her Papa’s office door she found it a few inches ajar and poked her head in. She spotted her father sat at his desk, his gaze set off in the distance at something she could not see. His quill was in his hand, yet it lacked it usual manic movement it had whenever her father was lost in his work.

She decided it was best not to disturb him for now; he seemed distracted enough as it was.

Turning on her heels she made her way to the stairs, ascending them with caution. Every creek of the floorboard sounded foreign in the otherwise quiet house. It was a threatening silence, which she did not want to disturb.

On reaching the large upstairs hallway she spotted her doll on the floor and quickly made her way over to pick her up, hugging her to her chest tightly.

“It’s okay Dolly.” She whispered a reassurance to the doll, though the comfort was more for herself.

When she reached the doorway to her parent’s room little Betsey paused, listening out for any warning sounds that she should not enter. Being met with the continued silence she pushed her way through the threshold, quickly noticing her mother laying in bed, exactly where she expected her to be. Her Mama had been in bed a lot recently. The doctor had come to check on her a few times and he spoke in hushed words to her Papa, or her Aunty Angelica. She had heard a few familiar words like baby and rest, but there were a few others that she didn’t know and by the way her Papa and Aunties faces set, they weren’t good and so she didn’t mind not knowing them.

“Betsey?” Her mother had spotted her in the entrance of the doorway, her back was propped up against the headboard of the bed and her lunch sat untouched on the table beside her.

Betsey paused, her brothers had warned her not to bother her parents and maybe she should have listened to them instead of barging in on her mother. She obviously needed rest.

“It’s okay, my love. You may come.” Eliza could see her daughter’s apprehension and smiled at her in encouragement.

Betsey noticed that it didn’t fully reach her eyes, but her mother’s reassuring voice was enough and she quickly bounced her way to the bed beside her.

“Are you okay?” Her mother inquired.

The young girl pouted sadly, “Tummy hurts.” It was still swirling around uncomfortably and she wanted her Mama to relieve the discomfort she was feeling.

“Oh, my poor baby.” Eliza leant over and opened her arms to her, “Come.” She gestured lifting her up.

She felt immediately soothed by her mother’s touch and snuggled tightly into her side. She again noticed the untouched plate beside her and peered up to her mother.

“Mama’s tummy hurt?”

Eliza looked down at her daughter and found her sweet eyes, which were so similar to Philips, looking up with her with such innocent concern.

How could she explain to the toddler that yes her tummy hurt and so did every other atom in her body. That it hurt to breathe knowing that her son would never get the chance to draw in a breath again, that every smile exhausted her, or that she wanted to burrow down into the covers of the bed and disappear forever because living in this world without one of her children did not feel like a world worth living in.

“Yes, Mama’s tummy hurts too.”

Betsey tightened her grip on her mother, before sitting up to place her doll on her mother’s chest.

“Dolly make it better.” She stated, pulling the covers up higher to rest over the doll and her mother, her own stomach-ache forgotten.

Eliza felt a genuine smile forming on her lips; her darling daughter was such a caring and kind spirited soul.

“Better?” The child asked hopefully.

Eliza nodded, feeling a little lighter than she had felt 5 minutes previous. Whilst she had lost one precious son, she had six other beautiful children full of life, and another on the way. Despite her wishes for god to take her to be with her boy, she knew she would go on, because she owed it to the rest of her children who still had so much more to experience and give.

She wrapped her arms around her little Betsey, holding her tight; a reminder of what she still had left.

* * *

**March 1803**

* * *

Betsey was three years old when her grandma died and her mother left for Albany with just little Phil in tow. She hadn’t really understood that her mother would be leaving for quite so long when she kissed her on the nose and told her to behave for her father. But it was almost a week later and her mother had still not returned, and she missed her. She missed the way she would tuck her in one extra time before stroking her back and singing a song to sooth her when she was adamant that she wasn’t tired. Between them, Alexander or Eliza would usually read their daughter a short story before bed, but her mother would always come in one last time to check on her.

Alexander had been the one to read her a story tonight, but it wasn’t the one she really wanted, and it hadn’t been half as long as she wished.

Betsey sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes. If her Papa wasn’t going to check in on her one last time, then she would have to go to him. She pushed the blankets off of her body and hopped out of the bed, landing with a soft thud. She then crept to the small bookcase in the corner of the room in search of her favourite night time read. It was easy to find, the small tattered pocket size book was well loved and had been passed down the line of Hamilton children, having originally been gifted to Philip from his Aunt Angelica. There was something comforting about the well-loved creased pages.

Her tiny footsteps could just about be heard as she pattered her way down the hall to find her father. The glow of candle light coming from her parents chamber called to her and she pushed the door open to find her father sat on the bed next to her brothers with his laptop desk, writing something on a piece of parchment paper.

She frowned at the sight; it seemed unfair that her brothers were allowed in her Mama and Papa’s bed and not her.

She let out a little huff and moved further into the room, finally alerting her father to her presence.

“Hello pumpkin.” He paused his writing and lifted his glasses to check on his daughter.

Her frown lifted a little as she raised her hand to place the small book on his desk.

“Read.” She instructed.

Her father raised his eyebrows at her, “You are supposed to be in bed, little lady.”

“Read, Papa!” She persevered, attempting to climb up the side of the bed, her hands clutching the blankets with sheer determination as she struggled to lift her legs high enough to get any traction.

Alexander laughed at her persistence and placed a hand underneath her to help guide her up.

“I can’t read to you right now, I’m writing a letter to your mother.”

“Mama!” Betsey exclaimed, her face lighting up at the mention. She crawled her way next to her father, burrowing between him and William to make space for herself, to which the boy whined.

“I want to be next to Papa!”

“Now, now. There’s plenty of me to go around.” Alexander placated the boy, ruffling his hair affectionately.

“Papa, read.” Betsey scooted the book further towards him.

Alexander rolled his eyes; his daughter was as tenacious as her Mother.

“Please.” The little girls voice sung out.

And she knew exactly how to wrap him around her little finger like her mother too.

“Let me finish this note to your Mother and then I will read to you.”

“Papa!” She whined, kicking her feet indignantly as if waiting a few more minutes was too much of a hardship for her to endure.

“I’ll read to you while Papa finishes his letter.” John offered, recognising the book well. It was an easy read and he would do anything for his father’s approval, as well as to quench his sister’s impending meltdown.

“Thank you, Jack.” Alexander smiled in appreciation.

Betsey let out a dramatic sigh, but her brother ignored her, picking up the familiar book and reading it out loud, just like Philip had done to him years ago.

Alexander felt warmth spread through his body as his listened to John read to his younger siblings.

He looked down to his letter, deciding to update Eliza on the children, adding a few extra specifics on Little Eliza and her interesting ways.

Once completed he placed his desk to the side and turned his attention back to his children. William’s eyes had closed and Betsey was sprawled over him in an attempt to see the pages John was reading.

He was glad to have his children by his side. The bed had felt too big with just him in it, the space where his Eliza usually slept left cold and barren. He missed her terribly and wished he could be with her and her family to help comfort them. He had reminded Eliza to be strong for her father, to remember that she was a Christian, yet he knew the moment she arrives back home her floodgates will come down in the comfort of his arms.

She had been wobbly when she left. The fresh anguish she felt for her mother had nagged away at the grief she was still learning to live with and opened new wounds, leaving her reluctant to leave her family. Alexander reassured himself in the hope that she would find consolation in her siblings, their shared sorrow for the loss of their mother would hopefully be beneficial. Peggy was also no longer with them, another wound which had been reopened, yet Eliza had felt a sense of peace knowing that her mother would be reunited with her in a better place.

Alexander had briefly considered travelling with her, but neither of them wanted to leave the children on their own, and taking them with them would likely be too overwhelming for her father. Besides, Hamilton had faith that Angelica would be a constant source of comfort to his wife in her time of need. If there was anyone as closely devoted to his wife as him, it was her elder sister.

Still, it didn’t lessen the longing he felt for his wife to be reunited with him. He made a silent promise to himself to always be a source of comfort to her, as she would always be for him.

He imagined them as and old couple, spending lazy afternoons on the porch, or pruning the flowers together in the garden and Eliza baking him apple pies with their home grown apples from the orchard. He imagined them as grandparents, their children moved out of home and creating their own families, yet keeping The Grange alive with the sound of their children, which he and Eliza would happily look after and bestow love upon at any given opportunity.

He couldn’t wait to grow old with his Eliza and watch their children follow their path in life.

Betsey stretched out beside him, her foot digging into his side as she yawned.

John paused his reading, closing the book and feeling special knowing he was the last child awake.

“Night Papa.” He spoke, placing the book on his mother’s bedside table and snuggling up next to William.

Alexander couldn’t bring himself to move little Betsey back to her bed, and so he curled up beside her in the small space he had left.

“Good night my angels.”

* * *

  



	2. Chapter 2

* * *

**July 1808**

At eight years old Betsey stood in the corner of the parlour in The Grange, staring into the white marble eyes of her mother’s beloved bust of her father. They always seemed similar, yet somehow completely different to how she remembered them. She often wondered how much she should rely on her sketchy memory, for she was so young the last time her father’s eyes met hers. Yet, the memory was so intense, ingrained in her mind so deeply that she knew it must be real.

She had few vivid memories of her father, having been just four when he passed. Sometimes a smell or a sound would bring something back to her; a firm hug or the smell of her father’s favourite pie. Yet such memories tended to lack any concrete images. She never saw her father’s face, but she remembered the feeling of having her father’s arms around her, the way warmth spread through her body making her feel contented and safe.

Other times an image would come to her. An expression on her father’s face, or her mother patting his shoulder as she moved past him, but they came and went so quickly that Bestsey struggled to know if they were real of just a fragment of her imagination.

The only memory that had stuck with any real substance had been of that last fateful day. She remembered having some awareness that her Papa was very unwell. People were coming in droves to visit him at Mr Bayard’s house, yet her and her brothers and sister had been kept away.

In her young naivety she believed it would pass and her Papa would get better. He got sick often, but her father was strong and always fought his sickness away, even if it took a while for him to bounce back to his usual self.

It wasn’t until she was called along with her siblings to visit him that she began to comprehend the seriousness of the situation.

They were marched into the room by their Aunt Angelica, who carried little Phil in her arms, and were met with the sight of their mother and father in bed. Her father’s skin was duller than she had ever seen before, and he lay in an odd position, looking uncomfortable with the blankets pulled up to his chin, staring up at the ceiling and not seeming to notice his children’s presence. Eliza sat up in bed beside him, her red-rimmed eyes glancing over the children carefully before placing her hand on her husband’s cheek.

“The children.” She whispered tenderly.

Betsey watched her father’s chest slowly rise and fall with a deep breath, before he used what strength he had left to lift his head up a little so her could be met with the sight of his children.

He took them in, stood in a line at the bottom of his bed, making specific eye contact with each one of them.

Betsey heard one of her siblings sniffle, yet could not tell who it came from, as his eyes slowly made their way down the line. She took tight hold of James’ hand, which dangled uselessly to her right, needing someone to anchor her from running away. Her brother squeezed back fervently and Eliza was glad, for next her father’s eyes met with hers.

They were so bright, the glassiness making them appear even more vibrant than usual. It was strange, considering everything else in the room was dark and dimmed, and so Betsey found herself compelled by them, feeling unable to look away.

The choice was taken away from her however, for a moment later his gaze left hers and his head returned to his pillow, his eyes shutting again.

Little Betsey didn’t want to move, she wanted to stay there and wait for her father’s eyes to open again, but as the rest of the children were ushered back out she felt her brother’s arms enclose around her and lift her up, taking her with him.

Her little eyes furrowed as she looked over James shoulder, taking in the scene for the last time. Her father’s eyes were still secured shut, but her mother’s met hers and just before she lost sight she watched as her mother blew her a kiss in reassurance.

It was a memory she both cherished and abhorred. It seemed unfair that her most prominent memory of her father was of him on his deathbed. At the time she hadn’t fully understood that, that would have been the last time she saw her father, so now that she was older the scene somewhat haunted her even more. And yet, she cherished any memory she had of her father, thankful for any piece of information her memory retained of him.

So, as she stood face to face with the bust, she tried to imagine the exact shade of azure on the marble eyes, wishing someone had captured the colour as she remembered it.

Her eyes stayed on his as she heard footsteps approach behind her. She knew it was her mother instantly; there was something about the gentle way she approached that was like no other, especially in a busy house like theirs. Eliza stopped beside her daughter, taking in a comforting breath as her eyes met with the same place as her daughters.

They stood in silence for a moment until Betsey turned to look at her, noticing her lips slightly upturned in the corners, very similar to the bust’s.

She willed hers to do the same, but couldn’t quite bring herself to do so.

Eliza turned to her and noticed her daughter’s pitiful frown, knowing instantly what the problem was.

“This bust has much likeness to my Dear Hamilton, but nothing will ever capture his vibrant brilliance like ones mind can.” She shut her eyes again, smiling as she pictured his face on their wedding day; a mixture of pure happiness and apprehension for all that may come their way.

“But what if ones mind can’t remember correctly?” Betsey queried, wishing she could see the picture in her mother’s mind.

Eliza opened her eyes and met her daughter’s gaze, “You must trust yourself, my darling. Your father is a part of you, whatever you see in here,” she placed her hand on her daughter’s head and stroked her hair affectionately, “is true.”

Betsey nodded, but it didn’t feel like enough. Despite the fact that it was rare for her father’s name to not be mentioned on a daily basis, she always wanted to know more about him, wanted to remember more about him in the way her elder siblings did.

“I wish I could recollect more about him.” She sighed.

Eliza nodded sadly. She knew it was hard for the younger two to have such few concrete memories of their father. It seemed unfair that they got such little time with him. As much as she tried to keep his memory alive within the house, she knew it would never compare to the real thing and what they had missed out on.

Knowing there was little she could say to mend her daughter’s broken heart, she pulled her into a hug. “We can now only wish to abide by the almighty in hope that one day we shall be reunited with him in a better place for eternity”

* * *

**October 1811**

There had been so many losses over the past 10 years surrounding the Hamilton household, that the arrival of a new Hamilton was more than welcomed.

The journey with her mother and sister to Hudson, where James resided with his wife and new child, had felt like an eternity with the anticipation to meet the new arrival.

Betsey had noticed the way her mother hummed a distant tune under her breath as she occupied herself on route by embroidering a blanket she had made for the newborn, with a soft constant smile on her lips. Her mother seemed somewhat younger, more carefree and less wounded by the world as the ladies made their approach up the river, her brothers left a home with their Aunt to focus on their studies.

When James introduced the tiny bundle to his mother, allowing his wife Mary to place the little girl in her arms, Eliza watched as her mother’s face lit up in awe.

“You sweet child.” She cooed, looking into the round eyes of her first grandchild. “I am your grandmother.” She whispered, as if it were a secret for only her small delicate ears.

Betsey watched the way her mother paused for a moment, her smile was wide, yet she caught a longing in the way she lifted her hand to the pendent around her neck, subtly stroking it for a moment before running the same fingers over the child’s downy hair.

James cleared his throat, seeming to have noticed the gesture also.

“Do you care to hear her name?” He question, moving to sit beside her.

She nodded in reply. “Of course.”

James glanced at his wife, who smiled in response, willing him to share the name she knew was important to him.

“We have named her Eliza.”

Eliza looked up at James and Mary, her smile widening and then tightening as she tried to rain in her emotions.

“Oh” She swallowed down her emotion, rocking the child in her arms as if there were a need to comfort her.

“Your father would be so happy.” She stated, sharing a glance with her son who also appeared glossy eyed.

He nodded in return, remembering the way his father was with Betsey when she was born, calling her name just so he could hear it out loud another time. Eliza had always joked the reason the girl had been so advanced in crawling was due to the fact her father called her name out every few minutes.

“He would have loved to have another little Eliza to dote on.” James agreed.

Betsey felt her heart swell a little, now at 12 years old she was able to understand the importance of sharing her mother’s name and what it had meant to her father. She stood up, moving closer towards her mother to get a better look at the tiny child who shared her name.

“Ah, here is your other namesake.” Eliza cooed. “Come, sit down Betsey.” She instructed, to which James moved out the way to accommodate the younger Hamilton.

Once she was situated next to her mother, she found the small bundle being passed into her arms.

Her eyes widened, to which Eliza chuckled. Whilst Betsey had been around young children before, she had little experience with newborns. The little Eliza in her arms seemed so small she was worried she might break her. But as the child’s dark, bluish-grey eyes met hers she relaxed a little.

It was a somewhat strange sensation, to be staring down at the eyes of a new Hamilton when she had so far only experienced loss. Her chest felt a little lighter as she watched the child tiredly blinking her eyes shut and she wondered whether her mother had missed having such sweet new life around her.

It appeared so, for a mere minute later Eliza took the child back out of her arms, not wanting to let her go for too long, only begrudgingly letting go again when Angelica requested to hold her niece.

In fact, there was little time over the week they spent at her brothers where her mother wasn’t fussing over her new namesake. Mary graciously put up with having her mother-in-law fussing around after them and James bit his tongue when she accidentally (or so he thought) woke the child up from a well-needed nap just because she wanted to hold her.

Angelica also appeared settled during their stay, happily taking up the opportunity to hold the baby in the few moments her mother put her down.

“This reminds me of when Betsey was a baby.” She had stated, remembering a time when their family was complete.

“You were such a great help when she was small.” Eliza agreed, smiling at the scene in front of her.

“I’m surprised you let anyone else get a look in.” James exclaimed playfully.

“Yes, well I had 6 other little angels pulling my attention.” The smile never left her face. “Seven including your father.” She added.

Betsey had watched love and life pour out of her mother as she doted on her grandchild. Eliza was always a very active person, but there was something different in the way she did things now, a new energy that caused a spring in her step.

“This is how Mother used to be.” Angelica has said to her one day as they watched Eliza simultaneously rock baby Eliza in her arms whilst setting the dinner table with the other, animatedly telling Mary about how James was the same as a baby, always needing to be rocked to keep his cries at bay.

Eliza looked to her sister to see her watching their mother with a small smile on her lips. It had never really occurred to her that her mother was ever anything other than she had known. But she could see the difference now; the losses she experienced had caused a gaping hole that was just too wide to get over. She could learn to live with it, walk around the gap, find things to fill it with, but it would always be there, ready to reopen.

So, as they made their journey back down to The Grange, Betsey should have realised the effect of leaving her grandchild and son would have on Eliza.

The moment they pulled out from the jetty, silent tears fell from her mother’s dark eyes, as she looked back at the shore wistfully.

Betsey felt her own wave of emotion tighten in her chest; it had been exhilarating to be around such simple joy, that upon leaving a sense of loss overcame her. She wondered if her mother felt the same every time one of her brothers had left their home.

Scooting across the bench to be closer to her, she rested her head on Eliza’s shoulder, who turned to place a kiss on her forehead.

“At least I still have my little Eliza.” She sighed, rested her head on her daughters.

“I’m not that little anymore.” Betsey rolled her eyes playfully.

“Nonsense. You will always be our baby.”

“Phil is the baby not me.” She retorted, not missing her mother’s use of ‘our’.

“You’re all our babies.” She nodded over to Angelica who looked as forlorn as her mother at the concept of leaving. “Even when you grow old and leave me.”

Betsey paused, she could never imagine leaving her mother, but one day she would have to find a husband and do just that. The thought troubled her, not liking the idea of her mother being alone.

“I don’t think I ever want to leave you.” Betsey shared her contemplations.

Eliza smiled, “Good, because I never want you to leave me either.”

Eliza knew it was somewhat selfish, she should want her daughter to become independent and move away and have a family of her own if she desired it, but she also couldn’t lie to her. Her children were the one last thread she had keeping her going, her last anchor to her husband, and if they were all to leave her, she was not sure how she would go on. So for now she closed her eyes and imagined her future surrounded by her children and grandchildren, her dear Guardian Angel watching protectively over them from above. Maybe one day soon she’d be lucky enough to join him up there.

* * *

**July 1825**

Betsey was twenty-five the day she got married, to a young merchant who she had slowly fallen for. Things were easy with Sidney, they shared a deep understanding that she had never experienced with another before, both of them having lost a parent at a young tender age. He was kind, and warm and secure, and Betsey loved him, but that didn’t keep nagging anxiety and guilt away that consumed her whenever she thought about leaving her mother.

Luckily for Betsey, the anxiety of leaving her mother was something she was able to share with her husband-to-be, who was empathetic to her troubles and did not argue when she stated she wasn’t ready to move out of The Grange.

He was agreeable to her decision, his mother-in-laws courteous disposition and the way she treated him like a son of her own meant he had no reason to disagree.

And so on the 25th July 1825 little Betsey became Eliza Hamilton Holly, wearing a dress her mother had helped tailor and clutching a bouquet with a few roses and tulips from her mother’s garden.

Eliza had approached her afterwards, with misty eyes, to wrap her arms around her in a secure hug. “Congratulations my dear Betsey. May the lord bless you with that same marital bliss as he bestowed upon myself.”

“Thanks Mama.” She hugged her back just a reverently.

Eliza pulled back, before taking her daughter’s elbow and pulling her to the side “Now, my dear, there are some marital matters I believe we have neglected to discuss.”

“Mother!” Betsey exclaimed, feeling the blood flow to her cheeks and wondering why her mother felt this was an appropriate moment.

Eliza almost relished in her embarrassment, remembering the time she was in a similar position, yet for her it was her sister sharing such wisdom. God, how she missed her sister.

“Hush, my dear, I am not going to speak in detail. But I had Angelica to converse with of these matters and you are at a disadvantage being the only girl in the family to marry.”

“Okay, but maybe we could…”

“All I require is that you make sure your husband abides by your father’s creed.”

“Mother!” Betsey gulps, wishing she wouldn’t go on any further.

Eliza raised her eyebrows, “I could go straight to Mr Holly and share this with him if you’d rather?” Eliza was sure Hamilton would have shared such wisdom if he were around to do so.

Betsey blanched, grabbing her mother’s arm, “No, I’m listening.”

“It was your fathers, correct, belief that a lady’s pleasure is more important than that of a gentleman’s. I pray you stand by such expectations and instruct Mr Holly to do the same.”

“Okay.” Betsey agreed, hoping the conversation would quickly be over with.

“Fortunately, as we will be living under the same roof I can observe his devotion to such expectations during the day. However I do not wish to indulge in your nightly matters - for those you must govern his behaviour yourself.”

Betsey nodded in reply, wondering whether she had made a mistake to live with her mother after-all.

Mercifully, the living arrangement suited all perfectly. Eliza was satisfied with Mr Holly’s attentiveness to her daughter, he worked in the city and Betsey helped Eliza with the orphanage now that she had become the director, as well as helping to look after Angelica and the home. Her mother was getting older, and whilst it didn’t exactly slow her down, the additional help was a godsend. She could get lost in her work and campaigning, feeling reassured that Angelica was being well cared for. Betsey helped file all the correspondence her mother received with information of her father. Some days they would relish in stories shared of Hamilton, which even her mother had yet to learn of. It was a nice arrangement, and whilst Betsey and Sidney had talked about finding a place of their own, she knew deep down that she would never be able to give this up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I just wanted to note that whilst I feel strange calling little Eliza "Betsey" throughout this fic it's just makes it easier with the dialogue. I had tried calling her Little Eliza but it just got confusing with all the Eliza's around in this chapter! I have no idea how they did it with all the Philips, Eliza's, Alexanders and Angelicas in the family back then!!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very interested in the Hamilton kids and their journeys in life and have always felt particularly intrigued with the bond between Eliza and little Eliza. It appears that Little E pretty much lived with her mother for the majority of her live, even after she married, up until Eliza's death. She was only 4 when Hamilton died and so I wonder if this contributed to the strong bond with her mother, for it's possible both Eliza's may have become a little more clingy with one another at the time. And I wonder if Little E may have felt somewhat of a responsibility to be there for her mother as the rest of the children moved on and got older. Also, there's the whole thing with Angelica H too. Of course we don't really know what exactly the situation was with her and to what extent, but it's possible that little E felt she had to also step up in ways that Angelica as the older daughter maybe couldn't do to further support her mum. 
> 
> I should also note that all the children seemed keen to support and help provide for their mother after Hamilton's death and Hamilton put it in his Will that he expected them to do so. (Although I believe they would have done so even if he did not) 
> 
> The last part of the chapter was based on a letter Hamilton wrote to Eliza in 1803 which can be found [ **Here** ](https://founders.archives.gov/?q=%20Author%253A%2522Hamilton%252C%20Alexander%2522%20Recipient%253A%2522Hamilton%252C%20Elizabeth%2522&s=1111311111&r=104)
> 
> As a side note I decided to use Betsey throughout so to make it easier when writing dialogue between her and Eliza. Whilst her family used the nickname Betsey at times she was mostly known to others as Eliza.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Feedback and kudos is always appreciated :)


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